The list
by MiRiNHa
Summary: Calleigh goes through an unusual list of things she likes about a certain CSI named Ryan Wolfe.
1. Inhale

Pairing: Ryan & Calleigh

Pairing: Ryan & Calleigh

Contain: No Spoilers

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She was a CSI. She was supposed to follow a logical line of thought. But there she was trying to understand why (in heaven's name why) she likes Ryan Wolfe. As she went over and over and over again a list of possible reasons, she still couldn't find the one thing that was making her like him (and that really means _love_ him).

He wasn't even her type to begin with. So there, sitting on the couch, staring at the ceiling, she thought: **"Why do I like him!?"**

So, like every good girl has done at least once in their life, she finally decided to make things easier by putting together, in an organized way, a good and old list of "things I like about him". Hopefully that'll help. The remaining problem is: where to start?

…

His scent. It's strange to start this kind of list with something like that – and she knows it. Actually, a girl's list usually start with "smile", "personality", "romanticism", "skills", but of course, being Calleigh those come after things like "scent", "steps", "eyes", "voice", "OCD" – to be more exact, realizing her priorities in this matter, made her sound terribly like some kind of _stalker_. But, when closing her eyes, the first thing that comes to mind about him is his scent. Simply because it wasn't just a scent, it was _his_ scent.

Being the OCD freak Ryan is, his scent is a unique mixture of his cologne and aftershave. Yes, it's more complicated than that – as most of anything to do with Ryan Wolfe.

It wasn't a matter of a very rare kind of cologne, or a difficult-to-find aftershave… It was just… _His scent_. Composed of a exact amount of cologne and a exact amount of aftershave, each put in a exact area of his body, combine with his natural smell. It was such a complicated scheme that - she was sure – no one else could pull it off. Even if that task was to be given to some kind of specialist, still would be impossible to recreate Ryan Wolfe's scent.

It was the _chemistry_ between the liquids put on the skin in a special order, mixing itself with the fading smell of clean clothes and shampoo, and a long study of air chains, weather, local temperature … Yeah, there was no other explanation.

His scent was the result of a study of how to produce a scent that wouldn't be too strong nor too weak, that would please women, would stuck in the right places and be incredibly _welcoming_ in different situations.

Definitely it has been a good choice to start the list with his scent, because it was no one else's but _his._ And she would never encounter someone with the same scent, it couldn't be mistaken, it couldn't be made by anyone else, it wasn't carefully prepared for anyone else. And no matter how many times she tried, she would never be able to recreate it in her pillow to help her sleep through the nights he wasn't around.

--

I was tired of reading fics where Ryan is the one chasing. It was about time Calleigh show some of her love as well. First fanfic ever, please don't kill me (and congratulations for getting this far). Still wondering why I posted at all. ¬¬


	2. Tap Tap Tap

Pairing: Ryan & Calleigh

Contain: No Spoilers

Disclaimer: If CSI: Miami or this characters belonged to me they would be engaged in a love relationship. But, aparently, some writers are not as bright as me. (Damn, scratch that last sentence) Just remember they're not mine.

Warning: Now that I know there are people reading this: Please, forgive this bad english of mine. Spelling and grammar mistakes are all my fault. Sorry.

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Well, one topic couldn't possibly be considered a list. Besides, she was still to figure out why she liked a certain CSI.

Tired of staring at the ceiling, she walked to the bathroom, sure a bath would do her some good.

Tap. So, what else did she like about Ryan Wolfe? Tap. There must be something else. Tap. Anything, really. Tap. She stared at her reflex while the bathtub was filling with water behind her. Tap. Tap. Tap. _His_ steps.

Just the sudden realization was enough to put a child-like smile on her face. She liked _his_ steps. (Yes, another weird topic in her weird list.)

People like saying that the eyes are windows to the soul, that you can always read some one when looking at their eyes. But, she knew how his mood was from 9 feet away. His perfectly clean shoes, that always looks like brand new shoes, would tap in the rythim of his mood. Long before he would reach the door, before he even open it; when he was still at the end of the hallway, she already knew what to expect. Before turning around she would already know the reason he was standing right there. You see, usually the sound of his steps would come in a certain pace. Like he was albe to count all the fractions of second between each step, mesuring them carefully.

Short and fast steps could only mean he was in his business mode. It was a case, a suspect. So she would stand there, ready not to be taken by surprise when he opens the door with a exagerated force.

Long and fast steps only meant one thing: he was pissed off. Usually it would be something related to a case, or Eric has been making pranks again. (Boys, really...) And just in really rare cases, he would be mad at her. Either way, she always turns around the moment he opens the door to face him straight away. Those steps meant he was going to act childish for the next few moments and, therefore, he needed her attention (something she'd gladly give to him). He usually gets himself 1 or 2 minutes of whining about Eric being 12 years-old and seek her arms for some comfort (like he was 12 himself). Or he would get 5 minutes to stare at her with mad eyes, shalow breathing and angry whispers (because he wasn't the yelling kind of guy, and Ryan Wolfe hates people who makes scenes - especially at their workplace). 20 percent of the times she would apologize just to get the argument over with, 30 percent of the times he would overreact, 50 percent of times he was right in being angry at her, 90 percent of the times she would make her point, 98 percent of the times it was a silly matter and 100 percent of the times they'd be just fine by the end of the week (yes, sometimes they wouldn't speak to each other for a couple of days, time enough to forget what they fought about).

Long and slow steps meant he would bump at someone any minute now. She was tired of telling him not to read while walking, but old habits die hard.

Short and slow steps meant he was into deep thinking. Probably a case. Or the newspaper crosswords. But, if it was late at night, it meant he was tired; it was a hard day of work and all he wanted was delivery food and a shower.

Soft and short steps. When he wasn't with his shoes on. Late at night when he wanted some water, early in the morning when going to make coffee. It was the one he used when trying not to wake her up or to surprise her. Almost inaudible steps, at the tips of his toes. And because of that he was successfull in waking her up only when coffee was already ready and to scare her when she was in some distant thinking.

And last, but not least (actually, Ryan Wolfe's favorite choice): _his very own pace_. The most troublesome of all his paces. This one was used most of the times and could mean anything, really. So, in reality, she hated that pace, that one pace she couldn't decipher. But, since she seemed to be the only one that could recognize all the others (and Eric thinks that really creepy) she was fine with it.

Inside the bathtub, with water to her neck, she exhaled. She like his steps. But that wasn't the main reason why she liked him. And worst of all, her list seemed to be getting even creepier. So she decided to cool her head by sliding completly under water. She would do some more thinking when she started breathing again.

She needed to figure that out soon. Before he puts a _restraining order _against her.

--

Won't you just look at that! I wasn't hoping any reviews at all. I got some, and that made me really happy. And made me write a second part too.

Thank you for being so nice to me: **JauntyChick**, **lagentillefan**, **Dutchie15**, **CarolinaH.Manning **and **Violet44**. I hope you guys liked this one as well. Let me know if I should write more or stop here. And tell me if there's something you want to see in this odd list. .

XOXO MiRiNHa XOXO


	3. Fairhaired Boy

Pairing: Ryan & Calleigh

Pairing: Ryan & Calleigh

Contain: No Spoilers

Disclaimer: Is Ryan and Calleigh sleeping together? No? So that means CSI:Miami is not mine. Yet. ò.ó

Beta Reader: Dutchie15

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1:00 a.m. She hates it when he has to work late on her day off. Out of bath, back to the couch. What's on TV? Nothing interesting. Why is he taking so long to get back?

She takes a deep breath. His scent is everywhere in this apartment: the cushions, towels, walls, books… Everywhere. She's so sleepy she imagines the wind bringing her the smell of his hair. She likes his shampoo. And his hair.

Well, if things like his smell and steps count as points on her list, so does his hair, right?

His hair is soft. And most of the time it's too short for her taste. She means to tell him he should let it grow a bit longer and let it fall over his forehead, like when they first met, making him look really boyish. Somehow she thinks that if he looks _too _young, it will keep _those_ women away. But he always ends up getting it cut before she says anything, so she keeps postponing the comment. When his hair is a little longer, it gives the illusion his face is slightly round, and that makes her want to hug him and call him "kid" (which he absolutely hates).

But, when his hair is fresh out of the barber shop and it's really short, you can see his strong jaw line and, at moments like these, she insists he'd let his beard grow just a little because she's sure that will make him look hotter. Luckily, he never listens to her and his OCD won't let him keep a beard for too long, so that way she doesn't have to share her imagination of hotter Ryan with anyone else. Oh, and no, she doesn't remember when she became so jealous and possessive.

When he wakes up, his hair is in all these strange angles. It's usually funny, but it's a sight she's not lucky enough to see it very often because he tends to be the first to wake up. So, on his days off, the days she's able to wake up first, she stares at him (like she's sure he does when he wakes up first) and stares at his hair. Probably one of the very few things on him that's out of control; the reason why he doesn't like his hair. Or maybe he does, and his OCD is in the way.

And, at that point, still in bed and too half-asleep to complain, he lets her play with his hair. And all she does is making it go in even stranger angles. She likes that. Running her fingers through his soft hair. Sometimes she plays with a particular strand of hair. Sometimes she simply strokes him or moves her fingers lightly, making him drift back to sleep.

And sometimes, _those_ times, she pulls it hard, in a passionate way, with fingertips and nails almost hurting his skull; tangling in the hope he won't slip away from her hold.

Oh, for crying out loud… She sounds like a teenager in love!

--

Fair-haired Boy: According to Answers(dot)com: "A favorite, a person who is given special treatment"

I think I'm enjoying this fic-writing thing. Haha. It seems common in the reviews to say this fic is different or something like that, so I'm hoping this is something good. XDD

Thanks to **Heyyo**, **CarolinaH.Manning, Dutchie15, JauntyChick**, **me.fergie** and **mixer03and1** for your reviews. And Thank you **Dutchie15** for your amazing work as Beta Reader.

XOXO MiRiNHa XOXO


	4. Hazel

Pairing: Ryan & Calleigh

Contain: No Spoilers.

Disclaimer: CSI:Miami, obviously, is not mine.

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_Where was he__?_

Could had something happened? Did he get lost? Couldn't he call? Say he was alive, in one piece and on the way? His lateness was, in the very least, frustrating. And the wait to see his eyes crossing that front door kept her awake against her better judgment.

Eyes. His eyes. Well, why not? _It's not this list can get any creepier_.

First time they met, his eyes were green. Sometime during his first week on the job, his eyes were brown. At some point she almost asked him if he wore contact lenses, but, while on a case, she realized they were hazel.

They were collecting evidence in a murder scene when he walked up to her, and he stood there, just a few inches away, talking. Until this day, she has no idea what he was talking about because she was too distracted by his eyes to make sense of any word he said (and she only agreed with him because she was still in a trance). _They're hazel. _And only when he walked away, she realized she had stood there impolitely staring.

For a while after that, every morning, when she heard his steps coming down the hall she caught herself trying to guess what color would they be that day - A_re they greener or browner today? _Incredibly, it was quite entertaining playing a game by herself about Ryan Wolfe. At first, she got the answer wrong most days; until she finally understood the mechanism of his eyes color. By then, she could tell whatever was happening just by looking into his eyes.

On good days - with interesting cases solved, pleasant weather, little paperwork, good mood, boyish prank on the way -, his eyes are green, not hazel, green. One of her priorities when they started dating was trying to get up before him on a day off (what proved to be a task harder to be done than one can imagine) just to see if the phenomenon was the same.

On bad days – simple cases, too hot of a weather or paperwork enough to work late –, his eyes are a beautiful mix of green and brown. If he's too exhausted, drained, bored; that's when they're hazel.

But, when a criminal is not caught, someone they could save dies or he's mad; those things turn his eyes brown. Like chocolate. It's egoistic, but, when his eyes are brown, she likes to stare at them, so she almost doesn't mind he had a very bad day.

Once, he confronted her about her apparent good mood every time he had a bad day, in which she said how his eye color changes interested her. His answer? Well, it's not like he has any control over it. Then he turned his face away and his eyes fidgeted from left to right several times.

That's exactly what he does every time is caught off-guard and gets embarrassed: break eye contact and doesn't know what to do with his own eyes. Sure it would be easy just to blush like everyone else, but he never allows himself to do so. It was kind of adorable. His eyes have a life of their own, really. Gladly, he doesn't know that, or he'd wear stupid sunglasses all the time.

Like looking up on the ceiling when he's about to assume he feels guilty about something. Or looking at his own feet trying to remember something, as if he'll remembered every detail of where he had been, which steps he had taken, where he had stood.

Oh, and he has a tell when he is lying: blink twice before starting a lie. He doesn't know that himself, obviously. She's not going telling, though, because, if she does, he'd immediately try to fix it.

She likes the idea she's the only one who knows those bit of information. And, being the one that can read his eyes, there are things he can't hide from her, no matter how much he tries. Like saying he's fine when he's tired – hazel -, saying nothing happened when something bad did happen – two blinks -, be caught in a lie – fidgeting -, it's up to something – green -, secretly wants to hit Eric square in the face – brown.

But those hazel eyes, made of one part of chocolate boyishness, and two parts of an annoying cockiness so much like him, feels like home. And there's the overprotectiveness, the jealousy mixed with possessiveness that makes her feel safe, telling her she too has an effect on him. The amusement in staring at her working, or showering - or anything, really – it's always there scattering her every attempt of line of thought. Actually, she hates when he stares at her, because it keeps her from doing anything right.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, is as breathtaking as his black eyes. And, nowadays, she loves the feeling that she's the only one that gets to see that particular feature of them. The perfect balance between desire, passion and (what she likes to believe is) love throws the green and the brown out the window, and only black is left. And only she got to see it. _Only me, no one else_. No one else get to see the look that belongs to her, the one she's not interested in sharing or letting go. _Mine only, always, always, directed at me, burning through my skin, heating me up, preceding the best of all feelings…_

Yes, she most definitely loves his eyes. Wonder how long are they going to take to get home?

--

Just how much can one person obsess over someone else's eyes? I'm creepy, aren't I?

I'd have updated sooner, but some of this season's events had a turn off effect on me. Besides, I was busy with university.

This chapter was not beta so be nice to me.

I'm not a good writer, so I'm really happy and surprised that are people who'd read this. Therefore, thanks to whoever is reading this. And the ones that took their time reviewing. Please, hang in there with me this year once again.

MiRiNHa


	5. Shiver

I was going through some really old files in my computer and stumbled upon this, one of many forgotten files. No point in deleting or just leaving it be, so I decided to post it.

Be warned it hasn't been beta'd.

* * *

It was past one in the morning now, almost two actually. And Ryan Wolf was nowhere in sight. She wasn't used to waiting for him. Ryan and his OCD were always on time.

Being so late after a hard day of work and a relaxing shower, it was almost cruel making her wait up for him. Not that he said she needed to. He probably thought she was in bed right now, and maybe that was the reason he wasn't making any efforts to get home any time soon.

Well, truth is she is in bed right now. Not exactly wide awake, but not deep in sleep as he would expect either, she was lying in his bed; with his scent surrounding her everywhere - on his covers and pillows – it was almost the most comfortable scenery to fall asleep, only one piece was missing: the subject of her late-night thinking.

Taking in his scent with every breath, was making her eyelids feel even heavier. It was becoming harder to be awake with every second that ticked by. In a state she was neither awake nor sleeping, she could imagine – almost feel - his touch.

His fingertips tracing her jaw line, taking some of her wet hair from her face. Warm touch that made her shiver like it was actually ice.

It always seemed funny to her why his touch made her shiver, since no one else seemed to have the same reaction. She remembered that when she first noticed her strange reaction to his touch, she started to avoid it. She was back at the time she didn't even wanted to work in the same case with him just to avoid contact. Eric's mood had never been so good like at that time, he was happy believing she would do almost anything just to avoid being in the same room as Ryan Wolfe.

But then she decided that she liked the shivers, she liked the hair of the back of her neck standing up in a mixture of hot and cold. It was unbelievable what he could do to her so effortlessly.

Like when she would give him a file while working - a test result maybe – and their fingers would brush against each other. It was like electricity running through her skin.

His touch was, in every single degree, disorientating. She hated it.

Or maybe she liked it. No, she definitely liked it.

And when she said his touch made that to her, she had meant every contact to any part of Ryan Wolfe. Including his lips.

In fact, for several times she had imagined if he was running a fever just because he lips felt so hot. Sometimes she would put her hand to his forehead just to check and she always ended up getting to the conclusion he had a fever. He always denied it. She started believing his body temperature was higher than most people. Or, her second and not much acceptable option: his body temperature was normal and there was something wrong with her. Point is, he was hot. At least, she thought so.

His warm lips would keep her warm – even if it was 117 degrees outside and she didn't need any warming at all. And even when he made her sweat; somehow his touch would make her shiver at the same time. Goosebumps going down her spine that made her hold on to him even harder. Or hot breath that felt like velvet and tasted like vanilla.

And again, his fingertips came to her. Sliding down her arm, making her shiver – making her warmer inside and out. The damn fingertips that would caress her so lightly, always touching the right spots. A touch that felt almost as good as hear him whisper her name in his vanilla-flavored voice.

"Calleigh?"

How funny, she just noticed that against her will her eyelids had betrayed her and fell closed. And he was there, his touch wasn't part of her memory nor imagination.

"You really shouldn't fall asleep like that. You'll end up falling off the bed."

He was right, of course. She was curled up just a couple of inches from falling off.

"What took you so long?" Her voice sounded softer than she meant it. She could feel perfectly now; his palm burning hot against her cold freshly-showered skin.

"There was a lot of paperwork to do. And what have you been up to?"

His fingers were caressing her skin again, leaving a burning trace on her cheek and neck and forehead and scalp.

"Making a list." Being so sleepy worked like some kind of truth serum. She shouldn't have tell him that. Or perhaps it was his touch that was distracting her and stopping her mind from forming any coherent thoughts.

"A list? What kind of list?"

His thumb tracing her lips were really persuading her into saying what she really shouldn't.

"I was trying to figure out why I like you."

Saying those kinds of things was dangerous. Soon enough he would be laughing at her.

"Got anything interesting?"

"No."

It was late. He was late. And she wished he would shut up, change and come to bed with her already. She needed that unnecessary warm.

"Calleigh?"

He was way too real to ignore. His scent, his touch, his presence was overwhelming.

"What?"

She sound a bit upset and he probably thought she was mad at him for taking so long. She didn't care. Maybe he would learn something about not keep her waiting.

His lips so close to her ear, whispering so she would remain in her half-sleep-half-awake state and his hand caressing her cheek.

"Can I make a list too?"

The End.

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Clearly there'll be no sequel to this. If by any chance you feel like doing it, go for it. ;D

Cheers.


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